Saving Sara
by MidnyteRayne
Summary: I'm the worst author ever. Sorry for the delay in updating! One of their own is attacked. Is it related to a recent case or something completely seperate? GSR centric but not exclusively Post Way to Go
1. Chapter 1

As the Nevada sun slowly makes it's decent beyond the horizon, true darkness begins overtaking the small sparsely decorated bedroom, signaling an automatic awakening sign in its occupant, much like the morning's son shining awakens its morning risers. Stifling a small yawn her eyelids pry themselves apart, discontent with the short amount of rest that her body had received the night before, Sara Sidle swings her legs over the edge of her bed, and lets out a sigh before preparing to move from the bed to begin her nightly morning ritual.

The case she has been working on lately definitely nears the top of the 'all time difficult cases' list. Sure, all cases are difficult, even someone who deals with the dark side of humanity on a daily bases can't completely cut themselves off from the atrocities that some people are willing to commit against their fellow human. As the years go on, however, those who are more seasoned in the field are able to detach a bit more emotionally, but even for the most seasoned CSI, cases involving children always seem to be especially difficult.

She, Gil Grissom, and Greg Sanders have been working on the case of Aikida Miyamoto for almost 3 days now and it seems like there are no real leads in sight. Aikida had been found 'disposed of' in the dumpster out back of a popular Italian restaurant by a buss boy emptying the nightly garbage. She was 14 years old and due to start her freshman year of High School in 2 months. Based on rigor mortis and liver temperature, it was estimated she had been dead for nearly 48 hours before she was found. Further assessment showed that nearly every bone in her body had been broken pre mortem, along with both pre and post mortem bruising, a rape kit with a positive result, and pre mortem lesions and welts. Two things were obvious to everyone involved, one: this girl suffered greatly before her tiny body finally gave out and two: she wasn't just murdered, she was tortured.

Somehow, this case has been different. This is one of those few cases where instead of referring to the victim as "the vic," Aikida Miyamoto has always been referred to by her first name. Sure, calling a victim 'the vic' allows for a bit of distancing and emotional detachment, but sometimes, the team had discovered, emotions can be assets, they cause drive and determination. There have been very few leads in the case thus far and they have yet to be able to contact any family members. The poor girl's family is nowhere to be found and they have yet to contact any law enforcement agencies about their missing child. Therefore, at this moment, the greatest lead they have is the missing family.

Hearing her phone ring in the distance, Sara begrudgingly pulls herself from her bed and pads barefoot across her hardwood floors to the small galley kitchen to answer the land line. "Sidle," she mumbles into the phone, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and becoming suddenly aware of how truly unawake she really is. As the sleep clears, realization kicks in that this isn't her work number and she retries her greeting. "This is Sara," a brief pause, "Um, Sara Sidle." Lord knows her home phone doesn't ring often. She's just waiting for the day she answers it "Las Vegas Crime Lab."

A small chuckle filters through the receiver and a gruff but yet somehow velvety and very sexy voice comes across the line. "Be ready in 15 minutes, I'm going to pick you up for breakfast before shift." A smile begins spreading across Sara's face. Finally, after all of these years, a light had found its way into the darkness of her life. Her face falls a bit remembering how lonely her bed had felt last night. In nearly 5 months she hadn't spent a night alone, alternating between his house and hers, but after the current case they both felt they needed to have a little space. No point in taking out frustration over a case on those you love.

Allowing a smile to overcome the brief sadness, she laughs a bit into the phone. "Deal." Sara scrunches her face in though before looking contemplatively ahead. "You know, we're probably two of a very few group of individuals that refer to food at 10:00 at night as Breakfast." Then after a moment as the thought passes, " I'll follow you from here to the diner by the station. I'd really like to get an early start on trying to track down Aikida's family. I think I have a possible link to an uncle living here in Nevada." She waits a beat before continuing. "Plus, isn't it Brass's first day back today? I'd like to take him to lunch or something. You can come with if you want."

The dead air on the other end of the phone lasts so long that Sara almost thinks that they had been disconnected. Finally, a tentative voice meets her ears. "I was thinking that this morning we could maybe ride in together. Your car, my car, it doesn't really matter to me one way or the other." A moment of apprehensive silence makes the air thick, "and yes, I would love to take Brass to lunch with you. He is one of my best friends."

"Gil," she says her voice tinged with a warning tone, "you know that if we ride in together people will begin to talk. I thought that's what we were trying to avoid. Ecklie would have a field day," and then as an after thought, "and probably our jobs."

A guttural laugh escapes his throat at the idea of Ecklie being able to find anything without his teams help. "Ecklie won't fire either of us. He's far too terrified of the lab dropping to a number three or four rating nationally. Anyways, maybe it wouldn't be so bad for everyone to find out about us."

Balancing the phone between her neck and shoulder, Sara works on trying to get dressed as she talks. From the noise in the background, she knows that he's already on his way to her place so the 15 minute timeframe definitely began at the beginning of the call and not at the end. She was pretty sure that he'd be there any minute. "Who are you and what have you done with my Grissom?" she asks incredulously, her heart lurching a bit at her words. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined that she would be referring to him as 'her Grissom.' At least, that is, not to his face.

"What can I say," he says with a soft chuckle, "this is your Grissom. New and improved from the," he pauses a moment as in thought, "what did you call him? 'emotionally unattainable and socially stunted Grissom' of old?"

As she readies herself for what she can only hope will be a zinger of a response, she hears a shuffle outside of her door. Pulling the door open she states a simple "I believe it was socially retarded not stunted" while flashing an ever classic and heart melting 'Sara smile'.

"In the apartment, now!" a male voice gruffly says from behind a black ski mask. All thoughts of noting physically defining characteristics leave Sara's mind as she finds herself staring down the barrel of a .38. "I said, get in the damn apartment!" he thunders, forcibly moving her backwards.

All thoughts of Grissom and their conversation flood out of Sara's mind as she finds herself being shoved back into her apartment. She takes a quick inventory of the situation and realizes that in the turmoil she had accidentally turned off her home phone, disconnecting Gil from what was going on at the current time. With another quick sweep of her eyes she realizes that she is absolutely no where near her gun, which is currently sitting atop her counter, waiting to be affixed to her holster. Realizing that she's really up shit creek without a paddle, she puts her hands up in front of her, surrendering, hoping to delay until Gil shows up. "Okay, let's just calm down here," she reasons calmly, trying to work her way toward the breakfast bar and her gun.

Watching as she moves, the masked man looks behind her to the gun on the breakfast bar. In one smooth motion her shoves past her and grabs the gun, spinning back toward her wildly. "Are you Sara Sidle?" he spits with venom. When he meets no response, he shoves the gun further into her face. "Don't make me ask again." He moves the gun up as if to strike.

"Yes, yes, I'm Sara Sidle." She responds quickly. "Why? What do you want?" she continues, attempting to keep her voice calm. "This isn't the first time I've had a gun in my face you know. You don't frighten me."

She can almost see him smirk under the ski mask. "Well, we'll have to work on that then, won't we?" he asks smoothly. "Anyway, I have a message for you." In a moment faster than she can react, Sara sees the gun go up and then come crashing down on the right side of her head. In a flash she's on her knees, the warm sensation on the right side of her head indicates that he broke the skin and that she is indeed bleeding. Her head begins spinning as the impact registers fully and then before she can again react she feels the cool leather of his glove wrap around her throat, hoisting her to her feet.

The cool barrel of the gun presses itself into her temple as she feels the grip on her throat tighten. Suddenly, she feels him forcing her backwards toward the hallway leading to her bedroom. "I swear to God, you fight me or move, I will put a bullet through your fucking head." He forces her further backward and eventually she feels the back of her legs meet a soft surface. Her bed, she realizes. He tightens his grip on her throat again, causing her to gasp.

With a sudden movement she finds herself pinned to her bed, the attacker positioned above her and the gun momentarily pointed away from her body. With a swift kick to her attacker's midsection she manages to send him haltering back off of the bed. She attempts to move quickly, hoping to catch him off guard and obtain the upper hand. Her efforts are to no avail, however, as the attacker steps out of her path. Grabbing a fistful of auburn hair he uses her own force to slam her headfirst into the wall. Pulling her back he back hands her onto the bed and while aiming the gun at her uses his free hand to begin working at the top of her pants.

With a last ditch effort to stall her attacker, Sara begins squirming on the bed, attempting to get away from his intruding hands. She's aware that consciousness is a bit of a gift at the moment and while fighting the urge to allow sleep to overcome her, she tries to keep him from bringing her pants down over her hips. While his attention is diverted toward her clothing, Sara uses his distraction to her advantage and reaches down, grabbing at the ski mask on his head, pulling it off with a swift motion, hoping to remove some hair with it.

As she looks at his face, she attempts to memorize every line and curve. She mentally catalogs the following: Oriental male, approximately 35 and about 5'6'; he has brown eyes, a high rising forehead, short cropped black hair, a goatee, and a small scar over his right eyebrow; no piercing or other distinguishing marks. As he reacts in a fluster, she attempts to squirm out of his grasp while shoving the ski mask down between the footboard and the mattress, knowing that even if she doesn't come out of this alive the CSI's will be able to use it to track her attacker.

With one final attempt at freeing herself, Sara realizes that all the self defense training in the world isn't going to help her right now. With wide eyes, Sara watches as the man pins her harshly to the mattress and removes a large switch-blade knife from under his coat, slicing from the top of her pants to her knee, shredding the material and her skin. With a shriek of pain, she tries to focus on anything but the blood she feels soaking through her hair and running down her leg.

She watches as the knife moves again to do the same to the other side of her pants but stops abruptly as the front door of her apartment crashes in. With one swift movement, her attacker is out her bedroom window, taking the screen with him down the fire escape. Sara looks over to the doorway, too exhausted and disoriented to move, as Gil Grissom comes barging into the room, pistol drawn.

"Oh my God, Sara!" he exclaims in a panic, making sure the room is secure then moving to her side. "Oh God, honey, what happened to you." He moves to lift her up to him, hoping to inspect her wounds. She can see the tears in his eyes. With his free arm he pulls out his cell phone and hits a speed dial number. "This is Gil Grissom, supervisor of the Las Vegas Crime Scene Investigation unit," he says into the phone, "I need an ambulance A.S.A.P at CSI Sara Sidle's apartment" he gives them the address and looks at Sara expectantly. "we have an officer down and I need it here yesterday!"

As the fogginess in her brain clears momentarily, Sara takes in the scene around her. She looks at him and far more weak that she had hoped to sound says, "You have to leave the room Gil." He looks at her, his eyes the only visible sign of panic. With a sigh, she reaches a shaking hand to his arm and moves his hand from her head. "This is a crime scene, and I'm evidence."

Moving from the bed, Grissom grabs a stack of towels from the nearby linen closet and returns to her side. He places the towels over the cut on her leg, putting enough pressure to slow the blood loss. Sitting back on the bed next to her, Grissom gives her hand a quick squeeze and offering a weak smile goes back to investigating her head, attempting to slow the bleeding there as well. In a near whisper, he reassures her "and now I'm evidence too."


	2. Chapter 2

The ambulance arrives on scene about 10 minutes after Grissom hangs up with the switchboard. Both he and Sara had known they were coming as they could hear the sirens from almost a mile away. In Las Vegas traffic, getting an ambulance to arrive in under 20 minutes was damn near a miracle, unless, of course, they are coming to the aid of one of their own. Sara always thought that the Paramedics should arrive at a scene as quickly as possible regardless of who was injured. Law enforcement officials know the risk they're taking when they get into this line of business – why should they be treated any differently just because they're considered "on of our own." Looking up from Sara's side, after repeatedly refusing to leave her; crime scene be damned, Grissom watches as two paramedics come in with a stretcher, followed closely behind by Jim Brass and the rest of the night shift CSI's carrying their kits.

Moving closer to do their jobs, the medics ask Grissom to please move away from Sara, reassuring him that they are here to take care of her when he looks at them, not moving. With a reassuring squeeze of her hand, he steps back and allows them access to Sara. As he steps back he hears the group behind him take in sudden breaths of air upon seeing the condition Sara's in. He turns to them, immediately switching to supervisor role, hoping to find out as much as he can about who attacked Sara.

"Catherine, I want you to take point on this one. My," he pauses a moment to contemplate his wording, "personal involvement in this case could cause questions as to contamination of evidence or personal interest. Therefore, I'm removing myself from all further aspects of this investigation." Without allowing time for questions he continues on. "I'm here for any questions you may have as I was first on scene, but I can't take part in the actual investigation. As of this moment, I'm part of your investigation process, not part of the physical investigation"

Without question, Catherine steps forward, sets down her kit, and turns to the group; attempting to get things in full swing. "Nick, Greg, it looks like the struggle started at the front door so that's where he probably entered. We know he exited through the window, so I want you to do a full sweep of the apartment from beginning of the fight to the end." The conversation pauses as the stretcher carrying Sara makes its way out of the room. Catherine turns to Grissom. "Go with her. She could probably use the support and you're no use to us here. We'll find you for questioning when we're done here. Hopefully, by then, she'll be available to provide us some more details." Without waiting for a response she turns back to the other CSI's. "Warrick, I want you in the bedroom with me."

Nodding, Grissom understands Catherine's very subtle implications. As first on scene, that makes him their only suspect at the moment. By talking with Sara they can immediately eliminate him from the suspect list. At least, Grissom muses, he really hopes they can. Heading out of the bedroom to join the ambulance, he takes a moment to turn back to Catherine. "You're going to need to pull my prints and DNA from AFIS to rule me out my data compared to anything foreign."

"Is there something I should know about that you're not telling me? Is there something that could cause different variables in my crime scene?" Catherine asks, a questioning look crossing her fair pallor. As far as she has known, there isn't much reason for anyone's DNA to be present in Sara's place but hers. Sure, there might be the errant samples as each of them has been in her place at some time, but as far as Catherine had known there hasn't been anyone since Hank that would be around often enough to cause a large amount of additional data. Therefore, she had been expecting to only rule out Sara's DNA compared to foreign substances.

Grissom outwardly flinches at the mention of Sara's apartment as a crime scene. This was the reason he hadn't wanted to get intimately involved with her. He had always known that a day could come that their relationship could interfere with their work. After Nick's kidnapping he was suddenly aware of the notion that the same could happen to anyone on his team at any time. They both knew the risks though and had decided that every consequence was worth what they can have. He looks over at Catherine "Let's just say you're going to find more DNA of mine than you would expect." And with that, he turns on his heels and races out the door to catch the ambulance before it leaves.

After almost three hours of processing the apartment, Catherine and her team have come up with naught on the perpetrator. There are no errant hairs, no random fingerprints, and nothing more than a boot print that Greg lifted off of the hallway outside of Sara's bedroom. The blood on the scene is most likely all Sara's and the only incriminating evidence that they have found raises eyebrows toward Grissom but has nothing to do with the case. Finally, Greg moves over to the window that served as escape and finds one small black fiber stuck to a jag in the wood of the sill. Pulling the tweezers from his kit he bags the fiber and turns back to the group.

Moving to put his find in the security of his scene kit, Greg sees Warrick lean forward and with a latex gloved hand and pull something out from the base of the bed. "Jackpot!" he exclaims, removing the best evidence they have found yet. Evidence that they know Sara made sure to leave for them. On its way in descent to a plastic evidence bag is none other than the black ski mask, sure to be ripe with hair follicles and epithelials. "You go girl" Warrick remarks to no one in particular.


	3. Chapter 3

The ambulance ride to Cannon Medical Center is most decidedly the longest 20 minutes of Gil Grissom's life. It's as if the world outside the transport ceased to exist and all that matters in the world is the now unconscious form of Sara Sidle resting on a gurney in the center of the vehicle. The two EMT's made a constant effort to monitor Sara's vitals and, sitting at the end of a bench lining the right side of the vehicle Grissom feels nothing short of helpless noticing her skin had paled quite a bit since they left the scene, presumably from blood loss he projected, and her unconsciousness was probably a result of the same. The thing he hadn't anticipated, however, was his deep burning urge and need to touch her; to reassure himself that her fair pallor and lack of motion is not a his deepest fear coming true.

Arriving at the hospital, Grissom makes quick motion out of the Ambulance as the doors are pulled open, ensuring the EMT's adequate room to remove the gurney from it's confines and usher Sara into the hospital where she can receive treatment and then come back to him. Once Sara is ushered beyond the doors which stand as barrier, keeping him from proceeding further, causing a multitude of emotions to erupt from somewhere deep within him that he hadn't known existed as he watches her retreating form. He would follow her to the depths of Hell, he realizes ironically, yet somehow 6 inches of plastic, metal, and plexi-glass are managing to keep them apart.

In the waiting room, Grissom begins to pace the stark white tiled floors to a messy rut, attempting to push the images of Sara's helpless figure from his mind. 'Sara is not a victim' his mind screams as images of her strong, determined, beautiful self are replaced by images of a woman victimized, a woman made prey, a woman momentarily made into something less than she was ever supposed to be Sitting abruptly, Grissom's hand comes unconsciously crashing down on the small wooden table beside him, a small strangled cry escapes his lips as his usually stoic countenance is replaced by one of a man filled with grief. 'If only I had arrived earlier'.

Grissom's attention is diverted from his own internal beratement, however, as a voice, more so reassuring by it's quality than the words spoken reaches his ears, "You're going to have to be careful or I'll have to bring you in for destruction of public property." Lifting his gaze from the floor before him, Grissom finds Jim Brass standing before him, his own face a mixture of concern and fear. Walking over, Jim claps a strong hand to Grissom's shoulder before taking up residency in the chair besides him. "Have you heard anything yet?"

Jim hadn't really expected much of an answer. In all honesty, the simple shake of the head he received was far more than he had anticipated. In all his years knowing Gil Grissom he had discovered that the man had two weaknesses. The first was children. All of the CSI's have their hard cases, the ones that for some reason or another seem to hit home more than others, with Gil that always seemed to be kids. The other weakness though, the one that had honestly surprised the living hell out of Jim when he had put two and two together, was none other than Sara Sidle. As far as Jim could ever tell, that girl had taken up residence in Grissom's veins long before she had ever moved to Vegas.

With a slight squeeze to Grissom's shoulder, Brass stands up muttering about seeing "what a little 'Brass' can do around here" and walks up to the nurses station. Flashing his badge at the nearest nurse he offers her his kindest but most effective 'I'm in no mood for games' smile. "I'm here about CSI Sara Sidle. What information do we have?"

The nurse takes a moment to walk to a table behind the station and grabs a file. Turning around she takes a moment to look over its contents while she walks back over to him. "Sara Sidle, right?" She waits for Brass to nod. "Looks like most of her wounds were superficial. She may have sustained a concussion and a few broken ribs but most of the cuts and bruises will heal without much issue." She puts the file down and looks at him. "I'll let the doctor know that LVPD is here regarding her condition and I'm sure he'd be happy to talk with you."

Brass flashes her a genuine smile now, happy with her information and begins turning back to Grissom. On second though, he turns back around though and reverts his attention to the nurse. "I've got a CSI Supervisor in your waiting room that appears to be wearing some of the evidence from the crime scene still. Can you see about getting me some scrubs to have him change into?" The nurse nods and turns away for a moment, walking into a back room. Returning, she hands Brass a set of bright blue hospital issue scrubs.

Flipping open his cell phone Brass makes a quick call in to Catherine, letting her know that he's with Gil and that she may want to send a member of her team over to process Grissom and get Sara's affects. Satisfied that he's done everything he needs to for the moment he makes his way back over to his friend, this time taking a seat across from him. "Catherine's sending Nick over to process both you and Sara," he makes a show of his meaning by gesturing toward the clothing in his hand, "I know it's rough Gil, I mean, believe me, I know. She's important to all of us. I talked to the nurse though. She's going to be okay. Most all of the injuries she sustained were superficial and she's a real tough kid."

Nodding, Grissom looks up and makes eye contact with Brass for the first time since he arrived. "If anybody knows how tough she is, it's me. I put her through more things . . ." his voice trails off for a moment, "it's one of the things I love about her." Standing, he grabs the scrubs from Brass and looks up toward the doctor as he approaches them. "How is she Doctor?"


End file.
